Birthday Girl
by Lauriesf
Summary: Another Chance Encounters story with Henry and an original character. Enjoy!


BT – Chance Encounters Series – Birthday Girl

One of a few stories I wrote for my Chance Encounters Series. Beware, I was not in the best of moods when I wrote that one...

_Disclaimer: as usual, don't own anything except my own original character. Just taking Henry for a ride and handing him back unharmed. I mean, as if anything human could hurt him!_

You're sitting at the bar in that pub, having some coffee with your dessert – your favorite. Don't get me wrong. The coffee is fine, the dinner was too and the place is your favorite haunt. You come here once in a while with your colleagues and sometimes on weekends too when you don't want to cook and need to get the hell out of your place. But frankly speaking, not a good idea to come here to celebrate your birthday, especially on your own.

You're brooding over your cup of coffee and can't master the courage to get home. Anyway, the two glasses of wine you had with your meal must be a tad responsible for that feeling. Well, not the two glasses, just the second one. You wince as you think about having to move anyway. You feel a little dizzy and a lot forlorn. God you hate your birthdays. You don't see what other people see in them. They're always the worst day of the year. For one, you get a year older on that day and let's face it, when you grow older, you grow older, period. It comes without benefits, only new-found wrinkles, maybe...

Plus your mum calls to says happy birthday though you've told her a hundred times you hate it. But she plods on anyway, right? She never listens to what you have to say, just has her own way with things. That way she's satisfied and you're pissed for the rest of the day. Yeah, I forgot – she always calls first thing in the morning. There was that one time she woke you up but now you disconnect the phone. Regardless, she usually calls while you're having breakfast. Now, once she's called, at least you're fine 'cos let's face it – nobody calls on that day. Yeah, well, you'd need to have friends and family for that, uh? Too bad you don't, birthday girl! You smirk to yourself.

You set the mug on the counter and waves for your tab. You need to stop brooding now. It's a good thing you're sarcastic 'cos it's kept you alive, shielding you from all the pretty ordinary evils you have in your everyday life but now, it's getting way too sarcastic. The bartender walks to you and hands you your change. "Want me to call a cab?" he offers, eying you suspiciously.

You shake your head. "Nope, I'm good. Got my car round the corner," you answer casually as you stand and grab your coat from the back of the chair.

"I don't think you are," you hear a man's voice say behind you as he helps you with your coat. You turn and glare at the stranger. Who is he to put his two cents in?

"I'm a big girl, ya' know. I can take care of myself," you snap at him, struggling to make him drop his hands from your shoulders.

He takes a step back and holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Wow-oh," he teases you. "Put that pin back on that grenade, will you?" You smirk and stomp towards the door, ignoring him. He joins you and lays his hand on the handle, preventing you from opening it. You glare some more.

"Get the hell out of my way before you get hurt," you warn him. A disarmingly charming smile slowly spreads on his face. You have to admit he's handsome, the type that will never get home alone – actually, you have to admit, he's a hunk... that, and a bag of chips! But God, is he smug! He seems to think he's going to make you change your mind with one single smile. As if!

"You don't know me, don't know what my life is, don't even know about my day, so mind your own business, mister..." you tell him.

"Fitzroy," he says, extending his hand. "Henry Fitzroy."

"Well, Mr Fitzroy," you answer back forcefully, ignoring his hand, "now you've given me your name, can you move so I can get myself home? I've got a busy day tomorrow and I'd like to get to bed."

"I can drive you," he offers, undeterred, the smile still plastered on his face. God, he's infuriating!

"What part of get the hell out of my way don't you understand?" you yell at him, losing your temper.

He licks his upper lip and tilts his head, thinking. "Let's make a deal," he offers coolly, eying you like a big cat circling his prey. "If I can guess a couple of things about your life, birthday girl," he tells you, his voice trailing on those last two words, and grins when he hears your gasp at the mention of your birthday, "I'll drive you safely home. If I don't, you can take your anger out at me... What do you think?"

You try to breathe but feel mounting anxiety stuck in your throat, like a wad of cotton. You gulp and attempt to control yourself from shaking – to no avail.

"Hey," he says suddenly concerned and looks deep in your eyes as if he could see through your soul. "I didn't want to offend you or make you uncomfortable. I don't like to see a pretty lady hurt herself the way you have all evening..."

"You've been watching me?" you cry out indignantly.

"Sorry. Yes, I have. I was concerned. You looked so forlorn," he explains, taking a step towards you.

You immediately, instinctively, take a step back. He looks pained but doesn't attempt to move towards you again. "I won't hurt you. You have my word," he adds.

"You can believe him, lady," the bartender says from behind his counter. You turn round and stare at him in disbelief. "He's driven a few of my customers those last few months and none has ever complained. They always said he was gentlemanly. You should let him drive you home. It would be much safer than driving yourself," he adds, wincing as he sees you frown at him.

You turn to the stranger once more. "Why are you doing this?" you demand. "What are your ulterior motives?"

"Not the trusting type, uh?" he teases you and you smirk. "I told you. I just don't want to see you hurt. Human life is so fragile and car accidents happen, especially when your mind is not on the road."

"Where's my mind then?" you challenge him.

"On a million other things. It shows from the turmoil on your face and your erratic heart beat..." He raises his eyebrows expectantly. He's waiting for you to counter him.

"What are you? A lie detector?" you smirk disdainfully but don't feel reassured. How can he know so much?

"I'll tell you what I am if you let me drive you," he offers, his eyes a shade darker than they were a couple of minutes ago. You know because you've been paying attention – well, actually, too much attention. His eyes were crystal blue but now they're rather the color of a sky at midnight. You could get lost in those eyes if you're not more cautious... God, girl, pay attention, will ya'? He's not someone for you. You're the wall flower type, not the one that kind of hunk notices, even in an empty bar. Here it goes again, you tell yourself – that sarcasm will get the better of you one day.

"All right," you agree and see he's taken aback by your sudden change in attitude. "But, first, enlighten me, if you may. What do you think you know about me?"

He crosses his arms on his chest and grins at you. "Apart from your birthday, you mean?" he teases you. You wave at him to go on, clearly pissed. "You're alone on your birthday so I guess, no boyfriend, family or friends. Maybe a mother somewhere who might be a pain in the neck." He sees you blanch and grins at you. "Now, now, don't worry. I'm no psychic. I just happen to notice things. You're pretty sarcastic and bullheaded so I can also imagine that life's not been easy on you. You don't seem to be at ease around new people either so, not a people person, probably a little shy..." He lifts his forefinger as he sees you ready to protest. "...which is not at all incompatible with being sarcastic and strong-headed. You just don't know how to act around people and you must be afraid to get hurt – again – so I guess all this sarcasm is your best defense strategy... Am I wrong?" he asks, seeing you dumfounded. "Lost your tongue?" he adds mischievously, seeing you gaping.

You feel suddenly naked in front of that man and have a strong urgency to run. That's what you always do when things get a little too complicated. You shut people out and run. But not this time because he doesn't let you. He opens the door and gently pulls you outside. You let him because you can't find anything to say to him that would make sense right now. He puts his hand at the small of your back and leads you towards his car – a beautiful vintage Jaguar. He opens the door for you then closing it, rounds the car and settles in the driver's seat. He turns towards you, not starting the car yet. "Are you going to talk to me? Anytime from now on would be most welcome because I kind of feel all alone right now," he quips, tilting his head and doing a fairly passable imitation of a sad puppy.

You laugh humorlessly. "What do you want me to say?" you ask him.

"For starters, that you forgive me for being so rude with you," he tells you apologetically. God, the guy is unnerving. He's never where you expected him. One minute, he's that self-confident bastard and the next he's asking for your forgiveness!

"OK, I forgive you," you tell him to get rid of a lengthy and useless discussion. "What else?" you demand.

"You could tell me if I was going in the right direction or shame me for being such a moron, not understanding who you really are..." he offers.

You sigh. What do you have to lose anyway? Your day is a nightmare already so give or take a couple more humiliations... "I am what you said and even much more," you confess and see him quirk an eyebrow. You plod on. "This is only the tip of the iceberg. You're right. I'm very shy. I can see people do not get who I am and that makes me very self-conscious."

"Go on," he says.

You breathe out. "I don't fit here. I don't fit in that place. I don't fit in that society. I don't even fit in that century. I feel as if my whole life – the fact that I was born in the here and now – is a huge mistake or even some kind of a sick joke. I hate being me, being here, having to live my life. See, I wouldn't mind living in that century if I knew there was something else to be expected from life..." You struggle to explain what you feel but there are no words to express it – not belonging to the life you've been born into. He must think you're insane or something.

He thinks for a moment then asks: "Do you really believe that things were better in past centuries, that you would have been happier?"

"No, it's not that. I'm not that stupid." You roll your eyes. Now he must really think you're an idiot! "I know historical romance novels don't tell the truth. They're just one vision of the reality. Even history lessons or textbooks for that matter," you add. You blush at the notion of even saying the word "historical romance" aloud in front of that guy.

"So? What is it that you would do differently if you had the chance to alter your life drastically?" You can see he's really interested now. He doesn't seem to pay attention to your discomfort, only to the conversation at hand.

"I don't know. I don't have plans, you know. I just wish I could be freer. I feel stuck in a body that is more of a hindrance than anything. I always have. But now time has gone by..." you add, wincing.

He laughs joyfully. "You're not that old! You sound like an old wrinkled lady – which you are clearly not!" he mocks you.

"You're one to talk! You look like you're what – twenty-three?" you smirk at him.

He sniggers. "If only you knew!"

"Speaking of which..." you prod him. "Didn't you promise to tell me about you? It seems I'm doing all the talking here..."

"And I will," he agrees. "Before I do, I just need to know one more thing." You nod so he goes on: "Do you really believe you could become a different person, would you be offered the chance?"

You close your eyes and sigh then open them again and look him straight in the eyes. "I don't see why this is so important to you as, let's face it, I'll never be offered that chance anyway but to humor you... Yes, if I were, I know for sure that the burden of being me would not exist anymore and then I would not need to feel sarcastic and cold as I appear today." You look at him expectantly then ask: "So? Are you going to tell me or what?"

He gives you a Cheshire grin. "Fair enough," he says, "I think you've earned it... I'm a vampire. And if you care to change your life, I can arrange that easily enough, so long as you understand what that really means."

You gape at him and try to process the information then suddenly start laughing. You haven't laughed like this since you were – what? – ten? Your eyes well-up with tears from laughing so much and as you try to regain your composure, you look up and snort then stop short. He really looks hurt and is looking at you disdainfully with a very aristocratic demeanor that would most certainly fit the Queen, should she be laughed at of course... You can't help giggling once more then hold up your hand in apology. "Sorry," you say, trying to suppress the grin spreading on your face – in vain!

He doesn't answer and keeps looking at you, his darkening eyes boring into yours. "You were not really serious, right?" you can't help adding, hoping to thaw the atmosphere and maybe get his confession that this was indeed a joke. He remains silent then asks coldly, not taking his eyes off you: "You surely have a pen knife in your bag, don't you?"

"Yeah, well, I don't see what that has to do with..." You stop short as he waves impatiently for you to produce it. You lift your eyebrows but rummage through your bag anyway and hand it to him. He opens it and breathing in, very sedately pushes the blade through his open palm. You cry out in horror.

"Don't worry," he says, his voice altered, his tone much lower than earlier, and much more scary too. He takes the blade off his hand and you see his palm heals instantly.

"Nice trick," you snigger. There's got to be a trick, right?

"It's not a trick, young lady," he tells you in that same creepy voice. You feel mesmerized and realize you have difficulties concentrating. "Listen," he says, his voice and eyes suddenly back to normal, "you don't want to believe, fine. I could make you forget but I won't. You're a very intriguing and very upsetting young lady," he adds, making you snort. "What is it? You don't think you're upsetting, maybe?"

"Oh, no, it's not that. I know I am. It's the young lady that made me pause," you answer, self- deprecatingly.

"You are, for me. I've lived almost half a millennium so you're quite young compared to me," he says humorlessly.

"Well, you know, five hundred years or not, you and I get sighted together and I might get accused of robbing the cradle," you answer on the same tone.

He laughs. "I've already been told that."

There's suddenly silence. You feel like you're Alice in Wonderland, meeting the Cheshire Cat, and he's trying to convince you that if you're there with him it's because you're as mad as him and worthy of belonging to his very illogical and scary world. You tell Henry about it. He thinks about it and grins at you: "You might be quite right about that, my dear. You indeed may very well deserve to belong to my world..." he adds ominously.

You hold up your hands as a sign of protest. "I did not say that. I'm not sure that if – and only if – you are what you pretend to be, I'd like to join you." You shake your head in wonder at what you've just said. This is indeed insane!

"I understand that this kind of information takes time to process... And I do understand that you also need time to make a decision. We never turn someone against their will – only lovers and friends. We need to know we're not releasing evil people amongst the population. I need to know you'll be in control and will work for the greater good," he lectures you. You look at him in wonder. This indeed feels like waking up in the twilight zone – no pun intended!

"Wait!" you say, staring at him. "_We? Lovers and friends? The greater good?_ There's more than you? What is it – a sect?"

He laughs boisterously. "I'm sorry. I should know by now it's too much to take in one evening... No we're not a sect, but yes there are many more of us though as we often turn on one another, one in each city is more than enough. And to explain the friends and lovers... Well, we like to know who we turn and don't do it lightly. So," he says, pausing and thinking for a couple of seconds, during which you cannot help gaping at him, "I'm giving you a year to think about it. If you feel the same about that messy life of yours in a year from now and are willing to change it drastically – be granted the power to be noticed when you want it and yet walk this earth like a ghost when you don't and of course, much, much more than that - then I'll offer to turn you. If you don't, at least you'll be sure to have a date on your birthday. Same place, same time next year, all right?" he offers, not waiting for your answer. He starts the car and drives you home, walks you to your door and kisses your cheek before disappearing from your sight in a split second. You haven't been able to utter a word. Your mind is bogged with too many questions and you can't quite seem to make up your mind yet about screaming in fright about what you've discovered or deciding that you've definitely lost your marbles.

_Now, what happens in a year? Well, I'm inclined to let you decide. What would **I** do? Hum, I guess I'd let him turn me, tho' frankly his kind of diet would probably not agree with my stomach! ;)_

_Hope you enjoyed. Please, review. It always makes my day._

_PS: still haven't found a beta for BT. Care to help? Please, contact me!_


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